


But How Do We Kill It?

by Queens_of_Sass



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Labyrinth (1986), Supernatural
Genre: Drama, F/M, Horror, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queens_of_Sass/pseuds/Queens_of_Sass





	1. Chapter 1

"Check it out Tobes… isn't that Queenie?" Sarah asked, pointing at the stately white swan that glided across the pond, trailed by three fluffy grey goslings. The light tone of her voice was betrayed by the faint crackling of tears that underpinned her words. Keenly aware of the stoney silence from her brother, the only response he would give, Sarah pulled more ripped lettuce from the bag in her pocket and scattered it into the water. "Looks like she had a good nesting season," she added, peering over her shoulder. If she hadn't looked, she could have let herself believe his silence was just the sullenness that came with being a pre-teen boy; but one look at his vacant eyes, blood-shot from a lack of sleep, and she was faced yet again with the grim truth.

His silence wasn't natural - something had terrified him beyond all reason.

She didn't know what it was, no one did, although she had her suspicions.

Sarah scattered the rest of the lettuce in the water and made her way over the stone bridge back to the shore. The light breeze that danced through the park swirled around her, teasing her with the scent of impending spring rain, crisp and fresh, with a hint of icy chill. Glancing at the sky, she shrugged deeper into her fleece jumper, and tugged the zipper higher under her chin. Spring rain always made her think of the night she nearly lost him to the Goblin King thanks to her own selfishness and stupidity. The irony wasn't lost on her - she fought so hard to save Toby that time only to end up losing him anyway; but this time it was to an unknown terror that kept him locked in his own mind.

Without speaking Sarah sat next to him, her grey-green eyes searching his face and body for any twitch of recognition, yet finding none. Silently she stared at the pond and the grey clouds creeping closer across the horizon. Wind rustled through the trees, the leaves making gentle shushing sounds that brought little comfort to her aching heart. Sighing she reached over and zipped up his jacket, protecting him from the chill in the air; all the while cursing herself for being unable to protect him when it really mattered.

"I'm sorry, Toby. I should have been here."

Brushing hair from his forehead, she fought down the urge to crush him in a hug. She'd been on a date when it happened, a date she didn't want to be on in the first place, but her parents insisted - "You haven't been out with a young man in over a year Sarah."

How could she explain that the men she met were missing something she couldn't quite name.

At first it had been a relief when her phone started to ring in the middle of dinner. Her relief was short-lived when she saw that that call was from her father. Unlike Karen who would call to check up on her dates, her father only ever interrupted a date if it was important. The minute she answered the phone her blood seemed to freeze upon hearing the terrified shrieking in the background. "Sarah… come home. There's been… an accident."

She rushed home, numb enough that she didn't even remember the trip, as the sound of her brother's terrified screams filled her head. Before she even reached the house, the sight of flashing red, white and blue lights filled the night, etching themselves on her retinas. Police vehicles had taken over the street. When she finally reached the house, a uniformed officer opened the door. The sight of her father hunched over on the couch while a police detective spoke to him would be a sight that would haunt her the rest of her days; his tie was askew and his face was buried in his hands. Snatches of the officer's words reached her, making her stomach lurch wildly - 'We don't know what happened...hoping Toby can tell us. The other boy… injuries incompatible with life…' A pair of officers near her were more blunt, and seemingly oblivious to the fact that their voices carried as loud as they did - 'Found his leg by the creek...like it was ripped off…head still missing...third case like this in the tri-state area...what sort of monster is capable of this…..'

Fighting down the urge to vomit at the realization of how close she came to losing Toby, she was pushed brusquely out of the way by paramedics wheeling a gurney, with a tiny ashen figure strapped on it, bundled in blankets, with just his little face showing. Toby stared at the ceiling, his lips pulled over his teeth in a horrified mask, scarlet dots scattered across his face like a Jackson Pollock tribute.

Seeing Sarah, Karen rushed to her, hugging her close, hysterical sobs bubbling from her. "They had to sedate him….my baby! He screams...just screams…."

A hand on her shoulder made her look up from the stranglehold Karen had on her, to be greeted by her father's broken expression. "Peter is dead. They were together," he murmured, his voice cracking. "The police need us. Can you...can you ride to the hospital with Toby? I don't want him to be alone," he asked, prying Karen from Sarah and letting his wife cling to him, her tears wetting his shirt.

Nodding numbly, Sarah rushed upstairs and grabbed the thread-worn but well-loved teddy bear sitting on Toby's bed. "C'mon Lancelot. Toby needs us."

That was two weeks ago, and the police were no closer to discovering what had happened.

For two weeks she had laid awake at night, listening to her little brother rocking on his bed in the room next to hers, the springs of the mattress creaking rhythmically, punctuated occasionally with a muffled sob. Other times it wasn't muffled, but a horrified shriek that would linger long into the night. The sobs were bad enough, but the screams made her blood run cold. No one knew what had happened to him, and Toby hadn't uttered a word. Her parents whispered quietly to themselves, tiptoeing around him afraid he would begin screaming again.

Pulling herself from the memories, Sarah wrapped her arm around Toby, almost wishing for the flinching and protests he used to give - 'Eww Sarah...no hugging! That's gross!' He sat still and stiff beside her, alive but no longer of this world.

"If you'd just tell me what happened, I'll do everything I can to fix it," she muttered helplessly into his white-blond hair.

Even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie.

She didn't know how to fix this. All she knew was that whatever had happened had not been of the human world. The feel of 'the other' was all around Toby when she got into the ambulance with him. It wasn't the delicious tingling sensation of Underground magic that she felt in the Labyrinth, this sensation was darker, making her stomach churn and her heart race, the sour taste of fear filling her mouth. The problem was she couldn't be sure if the magic she felt around him was different than the Labyrinth, or if it was she who was different and Labyrinth magic had always felt that way. But with the magic being the only clue about what happened, she ran with it, researching ways to call the Fae and more importantly - ways to kill them.

"I'm going to find the bastard who did this Toby. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to make sure he never hurts another kid again. He will pay, I promise," she muttered, giving Toby a protective squeeze.

When the first wave of fine mist descended on the park heralding the incoming rain, Sarah took her brother's small hand in hers and stood up. "Time to head home, buddy," she said, picking up the picnic blanket and tossing it over her shoulder. "Mom will have a fit if I keep you out in the rain. You know how she is."

Any other time Toby would have laughed and mimicked his mother - 'Just look at you, soaking wet! You'll catch your death! And look at the muddy footprints! Toby James and Sarah Renee`...you get in there and clean up those footprints right now! I just mopped the hall today!'

But today there was no reply, nothing except the quiet twittering of birds preparing for the rain and crickets singing their songs of early spring.

Taking Toby's hand, Sarah began to lead him the two blocks back to home, keeping up a string of inane chatter, more to distract herself from his silence than expecting him to finally speak. As they rounded the last corner toward home, Sarah continued to talk to him, while her mind whirled wondering how best to help him. Feeling him stop, she felt a moment of elation as it was the first self-motivated movement he had made since the 'incident', but seeing the look of sheer horror on his face erased any hope she had. In the next instant she smelled the strong scent of ammonia and saw dark blue wetness seeping down the front of his jeans as Toby started to shriek, the sound clawing inside her skull until she felt she would scream with him. Turning to see what had set him off, she stopped and stared.

Hovering over the storm drain in front of their house, bobbing and bouncing harmlessly in the spring breeze, was a single red balloon.

* * *

 

 **Author's Note:** We work for chocolate...or reviews. :)


	2. Ch. 2

**Author's Note:**  The Winchester's show up in this chapter, with the story set in season 11, before the events with Lucifer. As always, please review and let us know what you think. His Majesty will make a most grand appearance in the next chapter!

* * *

Inside the Men of Letters' secret bunker, Dean Winchester sat at the table enjoying a nice cup of coffee while browsing news sites in search of a case. Things had been quiet the last week or two. There was no sign of the Darkness and even the demons seemed to be behaving. Dean knew it was only a matter of time before Amara made her next move. Until then he had to keep busy and not think about her, and the best way to do that was to do what he did best, hunt the monsters that threatened the innocent.

Hearing the door that led outside open, Dean looked up to see his younger brother, Sam, come in with a couple of bags in hand. "Hey, Sammy!" He called as he stood and hurried to take the bags from him. There were 2 cases of beer, not the good stuff but it would do, some frozen dinners, cookies, and Sam's bag of fruit. "Dude, where's the pie?''

"They were out, but I got the cookies you like." Sam said simply as he gave the beer and cookies to Dean and took his fruit and the frozen dinners to the kitchen.

"Cookies?" Dean followed his brother, beer in hand. Tossing the cookies on the table and ignoring their existence. "How many times do I have to tell you cake, cookies, ice cream, and other sweets are not a replacement for pie?"

"What did you want me to do Dean? Get the ingredients and bake you a pie?" Sam shoved the beer in the fridge.

"You can bake?" Dean questioned with an incredulous blink.

Sam stopped, turned to make a comment, then merely shook his head when he saw the smirk on his brother's face. "Shut up."

"Bitch."

"Jerk.''

The clinking of beer bottles and dull metallic sound of cans being rearranged by Sam, punctuated the silence, while Dean emptied out the used coffee filter. Wrinkling his nose as the soggy paper and damp grounds fell into the bin with a sickening 'plop', Dean looked up.

"That reminds me, while you were out I found us a case."

Sam sighed, pulling a beer out of the fridge for himself. Seeing Dean filling the coffee maker for the third time that day, he thought better of it and put the beer back – he suspected this conversation was going to call for something more energetic than beer. "What do we need a case for? Shouldn't we be looking for a way to beat Amara?"

"There's been nothing for weeks. No mysterious fog, no random soulless killers, not even the typical demon activity. I'm going crazy just sitting here. We need to get out and do what we do best, hunt things and save people," Dean argued as he followed his brother back to the main room, where the laptop was.

"Alright," Sam sighed. "What's this case you found?"

Dean sat down in front of his laptop, his fingers tugging across the mouse pad as he pulled up the news article. "Derry, Maine has had 3 violent child murders over the last month. The bodies were torn apart. One boy's head is still missing."

"What do the locals say?" Sam asked as he stood behind his brother.

Sam peered over Dean's shoulder, watching the screen flicker and morph as the page loaded. After several moments, Dean found the link he wanted, clicking on it with a pleased grunt. The screen showed a scene Sam had seen more times than he could count, cops in blue-black uniforms, milling around a scene marked with yellow crime scene tape, the cheerful color at odds with the usual sorts of things it was used to mark. His eyes skimmed the headline, then skimmed the body of the story. He'd seen enough cases like this to know that the local cops would try to explain it away as an animal attack. It didn't matter where they went, animals always got the blame when there was a brutal death with no logical answer.

Clicking on another link and opening a new tab with more crime scene photos, Dean shrugged. "I hacked their files…"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You hacked something?"

"Shut up." Dean groaned as he turned the laptop towards his brother. "Charlie was teaching me the basics." He explained in a sad tone. Sam nodded and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. They both still missed the feisty redhead. Sighing Dean continued on as Sam took a seat beside him. "Three cases, all similar and they freely admit they are stumped."

"Stumped?" Sam couldn't believe it. "They actually said they have no clue?"

"Yeah, you know it's bad when they don't even try to explain it away," Dean said as he shook his head. "Apparently the remains they found were limbs ripped clean off the bodies. They're saying no human is capable of doing such a thing."

"And it's going after kids?" Sam muttered, already running through the encyclopedic list of monsters in his head trying to figure out what they might be up against.

"They were all boys ages 9 to 12," Dean informed him. "We may have caught a break though. It seems there was a witness to the last murder, a kid named Toby Williams. He was there when the last victim was attacked."

"What's the kid saying happened?" Sam asked as he started grabbing the things he might need to check it out.

"That's the problem, he's not saying anything," Dean frowned, running his hand through his hair. "Poor kid hasn't spoken since it happened."

Sam looked at his brother and could see the anger in his eyes. While Sam hated when bad things happened to innocent people, especially children, Dean took it personally when monsters went after kids. He knew Dean wouldn't rest until they had destroyed the sick bastard hurting these boys. Nodding to his brother, Sam tossed Dean the keys to the Impala. "Let's go talk to Toby."

Seeing his brother head towards his room, Dean called after him. "I thought we were going?"

"Just grabbing something." Sam told him. A few moments later he returned carrying a small box.

"What are you doing with that?" Dean asked motioning to the box.

"I thought the glasses might come in handy." Sam stated as he pulled two pairs of glasses from the old box. Both were old fashioned black frames with thick glass lenses. One was broken with a heavy layer of tape wrapped around bridge holding the two pieces together.

"Dude, we don't even know what they do. They could be cursed objects for all we know." Dean protested.

"Actually they aren't. I found files on them in the archives. They were one of Sinclair's little experiments. He found a way to see the flow of magic around a person," Sam explained. "According to his notes certain creatures leave a magical residue on people they come in contact with. These glasses are supposed to allow us to see that residue and based on its color we should be able to identify what the person was around."

"Seriously?" Dean found the whole thing hard to believe; and he didn't trust anything that belonged to Sinclair. "You want to use something that he worked his voodoo on?"

"Can't hurt to try them," Sam shrugged. "Might make identifying the creatures we're hunting easier."

"Assuming they don't turn us into homicidal maniacs first," Dean groaned. Their encounters with Sinclair and his experiments had been nothing but trouble - the Werther Box alone was enough to make Dean want to just destroy the glasses. "Did Sinclair leave a color code for the magic types? Otherwise how the hell do we know what it is we're seeing?"

Sam pulled a paper from his pocket. "He didn't leave a codex or anything, but I was able to gather a few from his notes on his trials with the glasses," Sam handed his handwritten color code to Dean.

Looking it over, he sighed. "Fine but you get the broken pair," Dean told him as he headed for the garage.

*******************************

As the black '67 Impala pulled into town, Sam sighed and looked at his brother, who was tapping his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the Metallica song that was playing. He had been researching the area and had found something very disturbing. "So I found something that might help us figure this out. Apparently, these aren't the first murders like this in the town of Derry."

"There were more kids killed?" Dean sounded pissed.

"Possibly. 27 years ago a dozen or so kids went missing. Some reports estimate it may have been closer to 30 over the course of a year. Police only found remains for a few of them, but they were so badly mangled they couldn't identify them," Sam explained, keeping an eye on Dean.

Dean stomped on the brake as he swung the car into a parking space at the first motel they saw when they entered Derry. Slamming his hands on the wheel, he growled angrily. "How do they not know how many kids were missing?" Dean demanded, glaring at the steering wheel of the Impala.

"See the thing is most of the missing kids were troubled kids," Sam sighed, noting the way the tendons in Dean's neck stood out in his anger. "They were from broken or abusive homes so they often ran away. Some of these kids may have been missing for weeks or months before their disappearance was officially reported."

"So kids go missing and no one says a word because they probably ran away from home so no one noticed there's a monster running loose? What changed?" Dean grumbled in frustration. "I mean why'd it stop taking kids?"

"No clue and with the reports not exactly being reliable it's hard to tell when the attacks actually started and ended."

Dean sighed and climbed out of the car, looking over the dusty black top of the car at his brother, a determined snarl on his face. "Alright let's get changed and go talk to the sheriff. I doubt he'll have anything useful to say other than where we can find the boy that witnessed the last attack." He grabbed the bag from the back and headed for the office with Sam right behind him.

They'd been in Derry less than thirty minutes and already the place just  _felt_  bad. The sooner they figured out what was killing kids and killed it, the happier he'd be.

"Look on the bright side," Sam said as he pulled open the front door of the motel office. "There's a diner down the street that has homemade pie."

' _Okay…maybe Derry wasn't so bad a place,'_  Dean mused, following his brother into the office.

***********************

Pulling up to the local police station, Sam retrieved the glasses from his bag and placed the intact pair on his face. To his surprise, they seemed to work. Several people passing by seemed to have a faint glow about them. It wasn't easy to spot, but he could definitely see it. "Glasses work," he said, folding the glasses them and placing them in his pocket.

"I'm not taking the broken ones, Sam."

Sam shook his head and chuckled when Dean held his hand out. "The usual way?" Sam held his hand out and on the count of three they played rock, paper, scissors. Both brothers chose rock the first round and immediately tried again. The second round was also a tie with both picking scissors. The third attempt Sam couldn't help but grin when Dean chose paper, which lost to his scissors.

"Two out of three?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head and tossed the broken glasses onto Dean's lap before exiting the Impala.

Grumbling Dean tried on the glasses and looked at himself in the rearview mirror. "I look like a super nerd!" Dean cried as he yanked the glasses from his face. Shoving them into the pocket of his suit jacket, he climbed out of the car and hurried to catch up to his brother.

As Sam and Dean entered the small police station in, as they called it, their Fed suits, they didn't miss the strange looks they were getting from the officers they passed. They were used to this. Local Law Enforcement officers, or LEOs, didn't like the Feds coming in and taking over; which is exactly what the boys were going to do, even if they were only impersonating the FBI.

"Can I help you boys with something?" asked the older man with pasty white skin behind the counter asked. He pushed his black cowboy hat back, exposing his vast forehead while he appraised them suspiciously.

Without hesitation, the boys pulled out their phony badges and presented them. "Agents Ronson and Bolder. We're looking for the sheriff," Dean said brusquely as he put his badge away.

"Well, you've found him,'' The man replied, removing his cowboy hat. "I'm Sheriff Boyle. Now, what can I do for you agents?''

Neither of the boys missed the disdain in the sheriff's voice. "Sheriff, we're here about the children that were murdered. We'd like to help you stop whoever's behind this. Can you tell anything about what's going on?" Sam asked as politely as he could; their work generally went more smoothly if they tried to include the locals, up to a certain point at least.

Sheriff Boyle looked Sam and Dean over, his lips pursed in thought. "I wasn't aware of anything that would give you boys jurisdiction in this." Sam's jaw clenched. He always hated it when the LEOs pulled the jurisdiction card, especially since they no longer had Bobby or Garth to pretend to be their superior. He relaxed a little when the Sheriff sighed, rubbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. "That said, we could sure use the help though," Sheriff Boyle admitted. "Come on into my office and I'll give you what little we have."

Following him into the other room, the brothers were surprised to see a huge whiteboard covered with photos, notes, and a map of the town. Dean examined the board and counted seven red markers, linked to photos of kids by white string.

"I thought there were only 3 murders?" Dean asked, glancing up as the sheriff dropped three large files onto the conference table by the whiteboard.

"Three identified so far," Boyle answered. "We found the remains of 3 boys. The other 4 are missing."

"Just like 27 years ago,'' Sam murmured to Dean, as he joined his brother at the whiteboard, examining the notes stuck to it.

Boyle blinked in surprise, then shook his head, the resignation of defeat creeping into his features. "What do you boys know about that?"

"Just what I read in the reports,'' Sam told him. "Close to 30 kids went missing over the year, but only a dozen remains were found."

Boyle nodded, scratching at the three-day stubble that lined the angles of his chin. "My niece was one of them. It 'bout near devastated my sister. I moved here and ran for Sheriff so that I could be part of the investigation."

"You have our sympathies Sheriff," Sam stated sincerely.

"Was she found?" Dean asked, tracing one of the white strings with his finger as he studied the information on the board, trying to find something,  _anything_  that would help them with this case.

"No, and my sister to this day swears she ran away, but I know Leanne wouldn't just run off. She wasn't that kind of kid," Sheriff Boyle sat on the edge of the table and opened one of the folders, pulling out a school photo of a gangly red-headed girl, her nose dotted with freckles as she grinned at the camera. "Her old man was a filthy bastard that didn't deserve her, but she was a sweet child. She wanted to be a doctor… or a ballerina when she grew up," he added, his words taking on a broken quality.

Sam nodded and looked at the photos on the board. "So you think it's happening again, Sheriff?"

The Sheriff stared at the picture of the freckle-faced girl and gave a weary sigh. "I pray to God that I'm wrong, but …I can't shake this feeling that it is happening again. I've got my deputy checking to see if any kids miss school each day and I've tripled patrols. I've even held three town meetings and got them to authorize hiring five more officers." Boyle ran his hand over his bald head and tucked the picture away again.

"But you have a witness this time?'' Dean asked, turning toward the Sheriff and flipping through another folder, scattered limbs and splatters of blood staring up at him from the crime scene photos. No matter how many times they did this, it never got any easier.

Nodding, the sheriff pointed to the picture of a blonde boy in a red striped shirt, linked to the 7th child by a blue length of yarn. "That'd be Toby Williams. Poor kid. His family moved here a few years ago. He had trouble adjusting because his older sister went off to college right before they moved. From what Sarah said, he was finally making friends. And now this..."

"Who's Sarah?" Dean asked.

"His older step-sister. She's been staying with Toby and their parents since the night we found him and what was left of Peter," Boyle explained.

Sam examined Toby's picture and the area of the map where Peter had been found. "Has he said anything at all?"

Shaking his head, Boyle sighed. "Not a word."

Before the boys could ask anything else a deputy who looked barely old enough to own a gun raced into the room, his blue eyes wide with horrified excitement. "Sheriff, come quick!"

"What is it, Roy?" Boyle asked, grabbing his hat and jamming it on his head as he stood.

"They found another body," Roy said. "I…I think it's the Jones girl."

"Well…shit… that ain't good," Boyle muttered, grabbing a set of keys from his desk. Snatching a leather jacket from the coat rack by the door, he paused and looked at Sam and Dean. "You boys had best come with me. Things are about to get bad and I'm gonna need all the help I can get to solve this and fast."

Frowning, Sam looked from Dean to the Sheriff. "Why's that?"

"Simple… Amber Jones is the mayor's daughter."

********************************

Still mulling over the crime scene in the woods, Dean gripped the steering wheel tight as he turned down a typical small town street. Trees dotted both sides of the road, framing neat, but older homes. The quiet domesticity of the street sat at odds with the crime scene they'd just come from, even though it was literally around the corner.

He'd been through the crime scene photos he found online and quickly skimmed through some of the photos in the sheriff's files. Despite the things they'd seen, nothing had prepared him for what greeted them in the woods – just thinking about it made his stomach turn uncomfortably. The clearing in the woods had clearly been a favorite hang out for the local kids, who had used scraps of wood and metal to construct a clubhouse of sorts. If he'd had a normal childhood it would've been the sort of place he'd have wanted to build a clubhouse too. That feeling ended when they got closer to the little shack. He felt Sam tense next to him, the two brothers sensing it at the same time – something so dark and demonic it sent the deputy with a weak stomach stumbling for the nearest bush where he cursed himself while bringing up his breakfast. Dean clapped him on the shoulder and offered a red handkerchief to him. "Yeah, it happens to the best of us," Dean tried to assure him.

"I did it when I encountered my first of these 'scenes' 27 years ago. In fact, most every officer who's worked one of these scenes has reacted the same," Sheriff Boyle stated. Still gasping, the deputy took the handkerchief and wiped his mouth. "It'll be alright son."

Feeling Boyle move away, Dean waited for Deputy to stand. "We've got it from here. Go get some air," Dean told the poor fellow. Glancing at the agents, the deputy's eyes snapped to his, then to the ramshackle clubhouse. At first he thought the kids had scored some red paint to decorate with, then the sordid truth hit him…

The bright crimson splashes that covered the slap-dash building weren't paint.

In the next instant the deputy was bent over the bush again, losing the following day's breakfast.

Shaking his head to clear the unpleasant images from his mind, Dean pulled to a stop in front of a nice-enough looking white, early 20th century house, the two story structure framed by a large front porch with rose bushes rimming the front edge of the street. "You sure this is the place?" he asked, seeing a flicker of movement in the window overlooking the front porch.

Sam checked the address again and nodded. "This is it. You want to lead?"

"Nah, Sammy… you deal with the sister and parents. I want to try to talk to the kid."

The slamming of the Impala doors seemed unnaturally loud, until Sam realized the problem was that the street was unnaturally quiet. The usual sounds were conspicuously missing. No laughing children, yelling and screaming as they played. No cars. No lawn mowers going. No conversation from open windows. Despite the summer heat, the houses on the street were closed up tight. Reaching the porch, he rang the door bell, not reacting to the flick of curtains in the window. A moment later the door cracked open and a pair of green eyes peered at him.

"Yes?"

Sam and Dean flashed their bogus badges in an oft-practiced move. "Good morning. We're Agents Ronson and Bolder of the FBI. We'd like to talk to you and your family about what happened with Peter Miller," Sam replied, his tone respectful yet firm.

A slender hand reached through the gap and plucked his badge wallet from his fingers before he could react. He could see her gaze narrow as she looked at him, then pulled the badge close enough to examine it. With a frown, she nibbled thoughtfully on her bottom lip, then thrust his badge back toward his hand. "You should come back later. My parents are unavailable."

Giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Sam tucked his ID away in his jacket pocket. "That's okay, Miss. We only have a few questions. We're here to help out the local law enforcement. Anything you can tell us would help."

The young woman at the door hesitated a moment, then sighed, opening the door further and stepping back. "I don't know what I can tell you. I wasn't even home when it happened, but… come on in. Anything that might help the police catch the bastard that did this."

Sam and Dean stepped into the entry hall of an immaculate home. The wood floor was highly polished, speaking of a meticulous housekeeper. A quick glance into the formal living room off the hall, revealed pristine white couches and chairs sitting on a pale pink carpet. The room was lit with crystal lamps, their soft golden glow a weak attempt at giving the room a cheerful air – an attempt that failed, as the room seemed sterile and lifeless.

"Toby and I were just having lunch in the family room," Sarah said, shutting the front door behind them. The weariness in her words matched her movements, as she headed down the hall flipping a fall of brunette hair over her shoulder. "It's this way."

Hanging back a bit, Dean quickly put the glasses on and looked closely at Sarah's retreating back. He quickly muttered to his brother, "She's glowing."

Sam placed his pair on and glanced at the brunette leading them down the hall, noting the faint blue aura that surrounded her. "Yeah…I see," he whispered.

"What was blue?" Dean asked.

Sam checked the card in his pocket. "Faerie folk," He whispered.

"Do you think she knows?"

Sam shrugged. "I'll try to find out. You check out the boy." Dean nodded and they returned the glasses to the safety of their pockets and followed Sarah.

Reaching the door of the family room, Sarah paused and peered in. Her green eyes shining sadly, Sarah didn't even notice the agents hang back and whisper to one another. Tucked into the far corner of the faded leather couch was a young boy, rocking back and forth, with his knees tucked to his chest. Clutched in his arms was a thread-worn teddy bear. Staring blankly at the cartoon on the TV, the boy made no move as if to recognize their presence, an untouched sandwich sitting on a plate next to him, while a second one sat neglected on the coffee table next to a bottle of iced tea.

"Does he do anything on his own?" Dean asked, hating the hopeless look on the boy's face.

Sarah took a wavering breath, leaning against the doorway for support. "He shifts position sometimes, but he won't leave that spot unless one of us makes him. We have to take him to the bathroom. He'll do that on his own but won't actually get up and go without prompting. My parents and I…well, we have to feed him or he won't eat. I just…" Closing her eyes, she shook silently, wiping tears from her cheeks.

A light hand rested on her arm, drawing her attention back to the agents. "Why don't we go get you a cup of tea or something and chat in the kitchen?" Sam suggested, giving a nod toward the kitchen across the hall.

"I can't leave him alone. Not now. Not with a stranger," came the reluctant reply. "No offense."

"None taken," Dean smiled as he walked into the family room and sat down next to Toby, gently patting him on the back, and fighting a shiver at the tingling sensation that crawled across his skin, unleashing an unsettling sense of possessiveness. "Your sis doesn't have to worry about you, does she Toby? You're not alone. You've got me and we're not gonna be strangers for long, are we buddy?" he asked, giving Toby a good-natured grin. "We're gonna change over to some less girlie cartoons, tho…no self-respecting boy of 12 wants to sit around watching My Little Pony with his big sister. Am I right? We're gonna find something good to watch, then we'll have a quiet little chat, just between us guys."

Unsure, Sarah looked at Toby, surprised when he turned and looked at Agent Bolder. Swallowing the pain that encased her heart, she nodded and let Ronson lead her into the kitchen.

******************************

When they had gone, Dean pulled the glasses from his pocket and used them to examine the boy. "I know I look like a dork with these things on," Dean chuckled. "They're actually kinda cool though. You wanna try them?" Toby looked from Dean back to the TV and continued to stare blankly at it. Dean shook his head in wonder at the shimmering blue aura and feel of magic that surrounded him. To find siblings both marked by the Fae was unexpected, but to be Fae-marked and experience an attack that had all the hallmarks of something so vicious it had to be demonic, that really piqued his interest.

Removing the glasses, Dean picked up the remote and grinned at Toby. "So, you look less like a Pokemon guy and more like…hmm… a Marvel fan. Am I right?" Flipping through the channels, Dean settled on Marvel Avengers, then sat back, glancing at Toby. "That's a pretty good looking sandwich your sister made. Do you want a bite?" he asked, picking up the ham and cheese sandwich and holding it up for the child, showing a tenderness rarely seen by anyone but children – even Sam rarely saw it.

With a slow blink, Toby took a bite, his movements robotic and halting.

"Yeah, I prefer my ham and cheese with mustard and pickle. But…ketchup is good too," Dean added, his tone light and conversational.

Watching the boy, Dean nodded encouragement as Toby reached out and took the sandwich from him, lifting it to his mouth and taking a bite without prodding. "Hey now…that's the way, buddy. You just come on outta that shell and talk to ole Dean, yeah? We're here to help, Toby. We know a thing or two about monsters and how to get rid of them," he murmured, the sound of his words muffled by the banter from the cartoon. "You just trust me and Sammy. In a couple days, this will just be a bad memory and if I can manage it, we'll even banish the bad memory as well."

*******************************

Sitting on a pristine white chair in the kitchen, Sarah tried to focus on what Agent Ronson was saying. Agent Ronson had been asking questions about Toby and the attack, most of which she couldn't answer. The agent was nice enough about it though. His demenor seemed a bit odd for an FBI agent, and there was something else about him that stood out, something she'd noticed the minute the two agents stepped across the threshold of the house. She'd noticed it attached to people off and on since her run through the Labyrinth, but had never seen it in two people at the same time.

They were marked by 'the other'.

Sarah first noticed that she and Toby had it a week after she won him back from the Goblin King. It was like a faint shimmering glow around them, that only stood out if the light was just right, but when she was close to Toby she noticed it was more than the aura, but a faint sensation of 'tingling' around him, which caressed her skin and sent odd sensations of possessiveness through her. After awhile, with no idea what else to think, she just started calling it 'the other' and assumed it had something to do with magic since they had both been to the Labyrinth.

Then on a trip to New York with her mother before high school graduation, she had seen the aura glittering around an old woman sitting on the subway. As the woman walked past her to get off at her stop, Sarah held her breath when the tingling sensation crept over her. No one around them seemed to notice, not even the old woman. Since then she had run into others over the years, and discovered that the color of the shimmering aura was different, and so was the sensation of 'the other'. The aura surrounding Toby and herself ranged from deep blue to pale frost blue, and the sensation was a pleasant tingling. Auras in the red family, ranging from pink to orange, always felt warm and reassuring. Those in the green family had a bit more of a 'zap' to them, but seemed more mischievous than dangerous. Black auras were more of a problem. As cliché as it seemed, she assumed they must be a darker 'magic', as the darkness was always accompanied by sizzling sensations which burned and stung her skin. Luckily she'd only encountered that twice in the last two years.

The FBI agents were different though, unlike anything she'd seen. Glancing at Ronson out of the corner of her eye as he spoke, she wondered at the shimmering white aura that surrounded him, edged with bits of red and pink, the whole thing ringed inside by a thin layer of grey. Around him the air felt as if it was humming softly. No warmth, tingling or sizzling, just a faint vibration.

And it wasn't just him. Boulder had the same odd aura and humming.

Yet she didn't feel threatened by either of them; in fact she felt an odd sense of reassurance from having them in the house. It was weird. The more she looked at Ronson and felt for the strange humming around him, the more she became sure of one thing – he wasn't who he said he was, yet she was sure he was not a threat.

' _Things are not always as they seem in this place…so you can't take anything for granted.'_

Shaking off the unwanted whisper from the past, Sarah jumped when the kettle began its shrill squeal, pulling her back from her thoughts to the expectant look on Ronson's face. "I… um…what?" she asked as she hopped up and poured boiling water into three mugs, her hands shaking enough to slosh water out down the sides.

"I just asked if you knew anything about a little club house sort of thing in the woods. By the map it seems to be in the creek ravine that runs along the back of this property," Sam said, taking the tea kettle from her before she burned herself.

Sarah leaned against the counter, hanging her head. "Yeah, I know the one. Set near the beaver dam?"

Sam nodded and poured milk into his mug, then looked at her. Seeing him hesitate she nodded.

"Yes please. Lots of milk and sugar for me. I hate coffee but…I've had to drink it lots lately. One of us has to be awake with Toby at all times. He only sleeps for an hour or two at a time, if that," she sighed, then shook her head. "The shack…right. Some kids built it years ago. It became kind of a clubhouse for kids in the neighborhood. There was talk of tearing it down a couple years ago, but the parents voted to leave it as it was pretty well maintained and many of the locals have good memories there." Taking the mug he handed to her, she cradled it in both hands, staring into the milky depths as if they would give some insight into how she and Toby found themselves in this surreal situation.

Stirring his mug, Sam looked at her and smiled, "Sounds like it was a good hang out then. Do the kids still use it then?"

For a brief moment Sarah gave in to memories from the previous summer of sitting on the bank of the beaver dam watching Toby and his friends play around the old clubhouse, busily repairing wobbly walls and attempting to build makeshift furniture from discarded car seats, tires and crates they scavenged from the far end of the ravine. Smiling briefly, she nodded. "Yes. They do. They'll probably be back down there again when Toby is feeling better."

"I…um…don't know quite how to tell you this, but I don't think any of the local kids will be allowed down there again, or will even want to go," Sam replied. Seeing the confusion in her green eyes, he sighed. "There was another attack, this time down by the kid's hangout."

Sarah stared at the delicate roses that decorated her mug, but didn't really see them. "That's the fourth murder then," she murmured, her words barely a whisper.

"Confirmed, yes. There are three other disappearances."

"Shit."

"Yeah." Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "Have you noticed anything weird in the area lately. Since or even before Toby's friend was killed?"

"Weird how?" She asked as she looked up at him.

"Flickering lights, odd smells, cold spots…"

Looking at him, Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Okay, tell the truth. You may look and act like an FBI agent, but you're not. Are you?" Seeing the momentary light of panic in Ronson's eyes before he hid it, Sarah's glare deepened. "I'm right, aren't I? You're not FBI. What are you? Press?"

"No…ah…nothing like that…"

"Well then, what?"

Rubbing a hand through his hair, Sam's mind raced over what to tell her. Judging from the steely glint in her eyes, the protective streak in her was riled up and one wrong move would see their chance to take care of things go up in smoke. He also suspected that she'd had more than a casual encounter with the Faerie folk. The glow around her was stronger and easier to now that she was agitated. "Look… okay, we're not FBI. But we do want to help."

"Hah. The Fae never want to help," she grumbled bitterly, her hand wrapping around the handle of the iron skillet sitting on the stove.

"Fae? What?" Registering the heavy skillet now in her hand, Sam put his mug down and stepped back, raising his hands in front of him. He was certain now that she knew a lot more than she was telling him and possibly was deeply connected to a Fae, though her attitude suggested it wasn't necessarily willingly. "Now, let's just hang on a second before you do something we'll both regret."

"What are you guys really?" she demanded, gesturing at him with the skillet. "Sidhe? Dark Sidhe? I've never seen an aura like yours before."

"Sidhe? No…wait. You've got the wrong idea about us, really," Sam said, backing up as she advanced toward him, still brandishing the skillet. "We're not Fae of any sort. We're human…mostly."

Her emerald eyes narrowed dangerously as she pulled the skillet back, ready to strike. "Mostly? You'd better start making some sense quick, or…."

"Or what? You'll set your Fae master on us?" Sam said without thinking it through.

Sarah blinked owlishly at him, her lips curling in an angry snarl. "Fae Master?!" With a lunge she swung the skillet, leaving Sam to jump back, bumping against the sideboard and setting the china rattling on the shelves.

"Okay…protector then?"

When Sarah took a second swing, Sam timed his move, reaching out and grabbing her wrist, then bodily spinning her around until she was pinned between his body and the fridge, her back tight against his chest.

Two conflicting thoughts registered for Sarah in a split instant, fighting for dominance. First was the feel of his body against her back. It had been ages since anyone had really touched her, much less hugged her. And despite the fact that this 'hug' was an act of self-defense rather than desire, it still felt far too good. The second thing that registered was the hot breaths that washed across the side of her neck, sending goose-bumps dancing along her arms, and a heated throb between her thighs.

' _Fuck…I need to get laid,'_  she briefly thought, before chasing it away.  _'Toby's near catatonic, getting laid is_ _ **not**_ _appropriate or going to help kill the bastard who did this.'_

"I need you to calm down, Sarah. I'm not what you think, and apparently you aren't what I think. So we both have some explaining to do," Sam murmured in her ear. "So why don't we do the sensible thing and talk this through, because the fact still is, Dean and I are here to help your brother. We want to kill the thing that is attacking the kids in Derry. So you can either work with us and help us drive it back to whatever demonic pit it escaped from, or you can let your little brother stay locked inside his own head."

Reluctantly Sarah let him guide her hand down, lowering the skillet to the counter once more.

"I'm going to let you go and we're going to talk about this, Sarah. You're just going to have to trust me. We only want to help." Releasing her he stepped back to the other side of the kitchen, eying her warily.

Straightening her shirt, Sarah turned around and glared at him. "You first. Start talking."

"I'm Sam…Winchester. My partner in there is actually my brother Dean," Sam explained, relieved when she didn't move for the skillet again. "Our aura probably looks weird because we're hunters…amongst other things, and we've be exposed to all kinds of magical energies and creatures. Basically, if it is supernatural and screws up lives, we've probably hunted it, killed it or both."

Nibbling on her upper lip, Sarah considered his words, then nodded. "Okay, so what…you're here tracking the thing killing kids?"

Sam nodded, glancing into the family room where Dean seemed to be chatting to Toby. "Yes, we're here to figure out what is doing the damage and kill it. Now, what's your story. You know you and Toby are surrounded by a blue aura, right? Wouldn't surprise me if you're Fae-marked. I've read about it but never seen it."

Slowly Sarah shook her head and walked toward him, grinning when he flinched slightly and stepped away. Picking up her mug of coffee, Sarah sipped it. "Fae-marked? No, that part I didn't know. Well, that is to say, I wasn't sure. I suspected that might be it, but it isn't like you can walk into the local pharmacy and ask what the strange blue glow means. We had a run in with a Fae bastard a couple years ago. Toby was two at the time. Haven't seen the bastard since and if I ever do, I'm going to brain him with an iron skillet, then salt his body before burying it in an iron mine."

The vengeance in her words, struck Sam hard. He understood her desire, he'd felt it himself more than once over the years.

"Well then, why don't you let us help take care of whatever is hunting kids in Derry, then we can help you with your little 'Fae' problem. Deal?"

Nodding, Sarah gave him the first genuine smile she had given anyone since the attack. "I reckon the bastard is what you need to find anyway. I want in on killing him."

Sam chuckled at the blood-thirsty smirk that spread across her face. He knew that feeling too. Whatever the Fae had done to piss her off, she was going to have her vengeance. "Remind me to stay on your good side."

"You help me kill him, and you won't just be on my good side, I'll treat you to dinner…and maybe breakfast too."

Grinning, Sam held his hand out. "Deal."

****************

Glancing from the television back to Toby, Dean sighed. While the boy had finished his sandwich on his own, he hadn't gotten any closer to talking. Dean had tried everything in his bag of tricks, even pulling out a pack of crayons and a notebook he'd picked up on impulse at the 'Food'n'Drug' where they'd gotten a local map. Nothing worked.

"I want to help you, Toby," he muttered. "But the only one who knows what happened is you."

From the TV the sounds of a circus calliope started up, as clowns and acrobats circled a ring promoting some kids cereal. He groaned and thumped his head on the back of the sofa, trying to think of another way to pull Toby out of his own head long enough to tell him what happened. Hearing a whimpering moan from the boy next to him, Dean's head snapped up, his eyes on Toby. The boy's eyes were wide and terrified, tears streaming down his cheeks. Following Toby's gaze, Dean took a closer look at the screen. Clowns and acrobats danced and tumbled around, except for one that stood off to the left, holding a single red balloon. In the space of a blink the clown moved up the screen, the movement making Toby tremble and scoot closer to Dean.

"Sam…." Dean called out. Seeing the clown grow closer as it crept toward the screen, Dean called louder. "Yo! Sam…Sammy!"

In the next instant the clown's face filled the screen, baleful red eyes glowing evilly, as a haunting maniacal laugh screeched through the speakers, drowning out the cheerful sounds of the calliope. All the while the clown seemed to press his face against the inside of the TV set, his eyes and cheeks smashed against the glass while he hissed, "Killlll youuuuuu….killllll you….allllllllllll…we all float….we all float, Tobeeeeeeeee!"

Frozen, Toby and Dean stared at the TV as the clown's mouth opened wider and wider, revealing row upon row of needle sharp teeth. "SAMMY!" Dean bellowed, as he tried and failed to move. Something holding him in place.

The sound of footsteps rushing from the kitchen was lost to Toby and Dean, hidden by the terrifying hissing voice, and the ridiculous music of the calliope, the screen now filled with smears of clown makeup on the inside of the glass and rows of deadly teeth.

"Float…we float….killlllll you….Tobeeeeeee…."

"What's the problem?" Sam asked, stopping in the door of the family room, shocked by the terrified looks on Dean and Toby's faces. "Dean? What the…"

Before he could finish the sentence, Toby began to scream, the sound a high keening cry that made Sam's heart falter in his chest, while Sarah sobbed next to him.

"DEADLIGHTS! Deadlightsdeadlightsdeadlightsdeadlightsdeadlightsdeadlights…" Toby cried over and over.

Tearing his eyes from the horrifying teeth and retina-searing light on the screen, Dean managed to free himself of whatever power had been restraining him. He grabbed Toby roughly, burying the screaming boy's face against his chest, as he clenched his own eyes shut tight. "Don't look buddy… I've got you. Don't you look… don't you look…" he shouted over the chaotic din of music, hissing and demonic laughing. "Sammy! Turn it off…for the love of… turn it off!"

Rushing toward Dean and the boy, Sam looked at the TV trying to figure out what had them so scared. Seeing the dancing acrobats and clowns, he couldn't grasp why Dean was shouting. Then he saw one of the clowns stop its antics and spin to face the screen, its eyes lighting up with evil glee, as if it actually saw him. Sam froze seeing the clown, his blood running cold, as in an instant he relieved his life-long fear of clowns and knew that  _this_  clown was the epitome of all evil clowns.

"Kill you toooooo!" it hissed, as Sarah rushed into the room and yanked the power cord from the wall.

Panting, Sarah collapsed in front of Toby, pulled the boy from Dean's embrace and onto her lap. She kissed his head frantically, while rocking him back and forth. "I'm sorry, Tobes. So sorry…we'll kill him…I promise. We'll kill him."

Sam blinked and rubbed a hand over his eyes before looking at Dean, who gulped, beads of sweat still streaking his forehead.

"Sammy…" he murmured.

"Yeah…That… that's no Fae," Sam finally said, pointing at the now black TV, with smudges of clown make-up still showing on the inside of the screen.

"Nope," Dean muttered, starting to feel more like himself again. Loosening the tie he hated and shoving it into his jacket pocket, he grumbled, "Thanks Mister Obvious."

"But it has to be. It's gotta be Jar….well…it's just gotta be a Fae," Sarah insisted.

Shaking his head, Sam sat down next to Dean and removed his own tie. "Nope. That thing is like nothing we've ever seen."

"Then what was that?" Sarah asked, still rocking Toby in her lap as the boy shivered violently.

Sam and Dean merely shrugged, neither having an idea what the thing was or why it was killing kids in Derry. The silence in the family room was finally broken when Toby, whispered quietly…

"It."

* * *

 

_**We work for reviews...and chocolate :)** _


	3. Chapter 3

It took an hour, several cups of hot chocolate and a batch of homemade cookies before they were able to get Toby settled down once more. Adding more sugar to his mug, Sam looked from his brother to the distressed brunette sitting next to him, her hand idly stroking Toby's head as the child sat on the floor, his arm wrapped around Dean's leg.

The dull sound of Sarah's mug being placed on the table drew his attention. Her eyes, still glistening with the tears she shed earlier when trying to calm Toby, seemed to darken with determination.

"So, what do we do now? How do you get rid of it?" Her staccato words were more demand than question, sharp and forceful.

"Well, we need to keep you two safe," Sam said, adding another spoonful of sugar to his mug before taking a drink. The bitter coffee burned its way down his throat as he considered how much to tell her. Given her previous experience with the Fae and her ability to 'read' people, he didn't think she needed to be coddled along, in fact, from what he had seen she would probably be offended if he tried to coddle her in anyway. "First we need to ward the house and keep you two safe."

Sarah gave an accepting nod, unflinching as she looked at him. "What all do you need to do?"

Picking a cookie from the plate, Dean marveled at how cool she was about accepting not just the weirdness with the demon clown, but having them around at all.

"The usual sorts of things you've probably read about. Salt the windows and doors. Paint devil's traps and sigils around the rooms. That sort of thing." Dean broke his cookie in half and offered part of it to Toby with an encouraging nod. "C'mon buddy. If you can't have pie, then a cookie will help. And I make the best damn cookies…" Seeing Sam's disapproving look and the amused quirk of Sarah's lips, he grinned. "Well…that is, I make the best cookies this side of the Smokies. You just trust ole' Dean."

"Good thing Karen won't be home until Monday," Sarah mumbled, then gave Dean a grateful smile, as Toby took the offered cookie and nibbled it without a sound. "Thanks for trying. You're the first person he's really responded to since…well, you know."

Shrugging, Dean munched on the other half of his cookie."So when you said your parents weren't available…?"

"They left for the weekend, but I wasn't going to tell that to two complete strangers, when there is a killer on the loose." Biting her lower lip thoughtfully, she frowned. "These Devil traps and things, are we going to be able to hide them from my step-mother?"

"Oh yeah. Not a problem," Sam said, standing up and putting his empty mug in the sink. If Sarah hadn't been familiar with the Fae, he'd be worried about her state of mind, considering how well she was taking everything. "We'll hide things under the carpets and behind pictures; anything else will be the sort of thing we can clean away when we're done."

"So after we ward the house, then what?" she asked, nudging her mug away from her, as her green eyes focused on the way Dean kept encouraging Toby to eat small bits of cookie and drink from the Marvel straw cup filled with chocolate milk.

"First we have to figure out what that thing is and how we kill it," Dean told her, looking up from tempting Toby with another cookie.

"And you're sure it wasn't a Fae?" Sarah asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Jar... the Fae I dealt with before, he could change his appearance and summon all kinds of things."

The Winchesters shook their heads.

"No this definitely wasn't a Fae," Sam assured her, his mind already ticking over the things they would need to protect the house and the Williams siblings.

"You've dealt with the Fae before?" Dean asked, glancing from Sarah to Sam. Seeing his brother give a brief nod, he fell silent once more, sneaking Toby another cookie.

Sarah nodded, her fingers idly caressing Toby's head. "I was a foolish girl reading fairytales and I was stuck babysitting Toby. I wished him away to the Goblin King one night. While part of me wanted the story to be true, another part didn't think anything would actually happen. So I said the words."

"But something did happen, didn't it Sarah?" Sam asked.

Sarah picked up Toby as she nodded, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Wrapping her arms tightly around him, she buried her face against her baby brother's shoulder. "He took Toby, but I beat him and his damn Labyrinth and I got my brother back – fair and square. I'm not letting whatever this clown bastard is, get his hands on Toby."

"Had to be a clown," Sam groaned, a shiver running down his spine.

"Don't worry Sammy, I won't let the scary clown get you either,'' Dean teased, giving Sarah a cheeky wink.

"Shut up Jerk," Sam replied as he punched Dean's arm.

"Bitch…," Dean muttered as he rubbed his arm. Seeing Sarah's disapproving glare, despite her smirk, he grinned. "Um…yeah…sorry about that."

Laughing softly, Sarah watched the brothers. "You two are really close aren't you?"

"Sammy and I have been through a lot together." Dean grinned, handing Toby another cookie. "Hell and back, literally."

"It's a long story," Sam told her when she gave him a curious look. "It would take about 12 years to fill you in on everything." He said it jokingly, but it wasn't far from the truth.

Standing, Dean headed for the door, the car keys jingling in his hand, "I'll get what I need from the car and get started on warding this place."

"Yeah, then I'll head back to the police station," Sam added. "I want to see if I can find any clues before I hit the library."

Dean headed toward the front door, whistling a bright tune that was at odds with the somber mood of the house. With Toby still in her arms Sarah stood up, his head lolling against her shoulder. The feel of the sleeping boy in her embrace reminded her of the baby she had nearly lost.

"Thank you," she murmured to Sam, her words soft. "For all of this. And I... I'm sorry I tried to hit you with a pan earlier."

"Have to say that was a new one, even for me. I mean Dean…I'd kind of expect a woman to take a swing at him with heavy objects. Come to think of it, several have," he laughed as he followed Sarah to the family room.

The TV had been unplugged and covered with a blanket, silencing it. It was the only way to calm Toby down earlier. Gently, Sarah placed her brother down and pulled a knitted blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders. She felt a pang of fear seeing her brother slip his thumb into his mouth and start to suck – he hadn't done that in years.

Sitting on the arm of the couch, Sarah brushed a strand of blonde hair from his face before kissing his head. "I almost lost him once. I fought dangers untold to keep him. I won't lose him this time either."

Before Sam could say anything, Dean came in with two large duffle bags and sat them down by the family room door announcing, "That should be everything."

"Alright, I'll see what I can find out in town. Call if you need anything," Sam said.

Dean nodded, turning his attention to the sleeping boy on the couch. Clapping his hands together, he winked at Sarah, the worried look on her face bothering him more than he'd care to admit. "Alright, let's get started."

"What do you need me to do?" Sarah asked as she watched him dig through the duffle bags, pulling out several large boxes of salt. "Do you always carry that sort of thing around with you?"

Snorting, Dean handed two boxes to Sarah. "Put it this way, we buy so much of this shit we should buy stock in a salt company." Sarah looked at the boxes, then back at him. Seeing her confusion, he grinned. "Pour a thick line in front of all the doors and windows. That will be a good start."

"Got it," Sarah took the box and hurried to the front door and poured a line across it, trying not to think about the fit her step-mother would throw if she saw the mess. Moving through the house, Sarah methodically poured a thick line of salt in front of every door and window. For good measure she did the same in front of the fireplaces in the living room and the dining room.  
When she returned to the family room, she found Dean kneeling by the couch, talking quietly to Toby who was now awake.

"Don't you worry pal. Your sister, Sam, and me… we're going to keep you safe. Now I need to paint some pictures on the floor and the walls. These are magic pictures. They'll keep you safe too. So I need you to wait by the stairs while I do this."

Toby nodded and Sarah covered her mouth in shock as her brother got up and walked over to the stairs and sat down. Dean stood up and smiled at him, then gave Toby a thumbs-up before joining Sarah.

"How did you do that?" she gasped.

"What? Oh, you mean Toby? He and I are buds now," Dean grinned. "Come give me a hand with the couch."

Sarah watched him walk back to the family room, her eyes admiring the pleasant view she had of his backside in those tight black jeans. What was it with men in tight pants? She shook her head to banish thoughts of a certain blonde that also wore tight pants. Hurrying to catch up to Dean, Sarah stood at one end of the couch.

"Grab that side," Dean told her as he lifted his end of the couch. Sarah grabbed the other side with a grunt, the two of them shifting it against the far wall of the room, while Toby watched from his vantage point on the stairs. "Now I'll teach you the sigils we usually use and what they're for," Dean told her as he shook the can of red spray paint, the sharp sound of the metal mixer rattling inside the can sounding shockingly loud in the quiet of the house.

"Alright. Should I take notes?" - She was joking, but he didn't seem to catch that.

"If you want to, tho I doubt you'll need most of these. Tho, with your experiences, it probably wouldn't hurt to know them."

Seeing the serious look in his eyes. Sarah grabbed a pen and pad. "What's first?"

As Sam entered the Derry police station, the squad room was filled with officers from neighboring towns, retired cops and military men, as well as the local officers. He shook his head. These men wanted to lynch someone, yet if they actually found the thing responsible for all the deaths, he knew every one of them would be slaughtered.

"Sheriff Boyle," He called out when he spotted the older man.

Nodding to Sam, Boyle made his way across the room, mopping his brow with his ever present handkerchief. "Where's your partner?"

"At the Williams house. He wanted to keep trying to talk to the boy."

"I'm afraid that's a lost cause," the Sheriff sighed. "I don't think he'll ever return to normal."

"I'm hopeful Toby will recover and be a help to us. He responded to my partner and even spoke a little," Sam replied, the shadow of a smile curling his lips at the look of surprise on the Sheriff's face.

"The boy spoke?"

"Just one word, deadlights. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Deadlights?" The sheriff scratched his head, wrinkling his nose in a frown. "Isn't that a type of skylight?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm not familiar with skylights."

"If it isn't skylights, then I can't say I've ever heard of it. I don't think it's anything that can help you agent, but a word spoken is better than the silence we got from the boy. It's a good sign he's improving at least," Boyle said. "I know his family will be relieved to have a bit of hope on that score."

Nodding Sam, sighed. "Sheriff was there anything unusual at any of the crime scene or in the autopsy reports?"

"What autopsies? All we found were parts," the Sherriff asks, his voice creeping higher with each word.

"Calm down Sheriff," Sam held his hands up to the older man, his own words dropping lower, the tone quiet and calm. "Now even though the remains were... well not a lot to go by, did your coroner run any kind of tests or find anything odd on the remains." Sam worded his questions carefully trying to avoid mentioning anything too odd. "A certain type of dirt or maybe a chemical on the clothes? Anything that might give us a lead."

The sheriff thought a moment. "Now that you mention it, there was a greasy stain on the clothing of two of the victims. I didn't think anything of it at first. Could that really help?" Boyle almost laughed at the thought. "Sounds like one of those crazy CSI shows or something. A speck of dirt leads police to the exact location the killer is hiding out."

Sam chuckled. "It's not quite as exact as they make it seem on TV, but it could give us somewhere to look. Example if this grease you mentioned is used for certain things say for diesel trucks, we would look at all the places in town with diesel trucks. Now that's still a lot of ground to cover, but it's less than the entire town."

Boyle nodded and grabbed the nearest phone. "I'll call Earl and have him run any test he can."

Sam thanked the Sheriff and gave him his cell number, asking that he call if they found anything. Stepping out of the police department, he squinted in the bright midday sun. The clock on the town hall read ten minutes to two, the early afternoon bustle of the town square casting a pleasant hum over the area, as cars slowly made their way around the park in the middle of the square, and people walked up and down the sidewalks, moving from one shop to the next. Pursing his lips, Sam felt for the car keys in his pocket then changed his mind, seeing that the library was on the other side of the square from the police department. Sam joined the pedestrians crossing the square and headed to the library to start researching the town, the events of 27 years ago, and Deadlights.

With each step he scanned the people around him and the buildings, even as his mind whirled over what he hoped to find at the library. He hoped the internet connection at the library was better than it had been at the police station. When they returned from the last crime scene, Sam had tried using his laptop in the Sheriff's office only to find they were using very outdated services and his home page took 5 minutes to load. Sam nearly sighed with relief seeing the "free Wi-Fi" sign on the library door.

After properly warding the house and teaching Sarah what he could, Dean and Sarah made themselves comfortable on the couch, with Toby between them, Sarah holding her little brother against her, her fingers gently stroking his head. Dean watched her with a thoughtful smile. It was obvious how much she loved the little guy. Dean couldn't help thinking about his own little brother and all he had done to try and protect Sammy.

"So tell me, Dean," Sarah's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "How did you and Sam get into all this?"

Dean's shoulders lifted slightly as he reached for the remote, then stopped himself when Toby flinched. Glancing at the covered TV, he cringed. "Well, it's the family business you could say. Our mom and her folks were hunters."

"So she taught you all of those symbols?"

"No, we had no clue mom was a hunter until recently. Hell, my dad never knew. She gave it all up when she married him. She never wanted us to be involved with any of this," Dean explained.

"So what changed?" Sarah inquired.

"A yellowed-eyed demon killed her. My dad became a hunter and raised, or should I say trained us to hunt these things."

"Did you get the demon?"

Dean nodded, his eyes darkening as his lips pulled tight. "We did, but not before it got Dad."

"I'm sorry," Sarah murmured, squeezing Toby tighter.

Shrugging Dean gave her a forgiving grin, "I've still got Sammy. We've been through a lot; lost a lot of good friends, but we've saved a bunch of people too. Hell, we stopped the freaking apocalypse."

"You're kidding right?" She chuckled.

"Nope, scouts honor. We locked the devil away in a cage and saved the world. We've both been to hell, fought demons, angels, and all kinds of nasty beasts."

"If I hadn't seen the crap I've seen I'd probably say you were nuts."

Dean shrugged, his boyish grin turning curious as he looked at her. "So how did you beat the Fae that took your brother?"

Sighing, Sarah's fingers idly played with Toby's hair. "Pure luck mostly, though I did have some help."

"Who?"

"Creatures from the Labyrinth… Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus. They were my friends and I don't think I would have made it to the castle in time without them."

Dean nodded, his expression serious. "It's good to have friends when you're up against this shit. What happened them…your friends?"

Shrugging, Sarah shook her head. "No clue. I haven't seen them since that night. That bastard probably punished them for helping me," she said through gritted teeth.

"Hey, take it easy." Dean reached his and grasped her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We'll deal with this and then we'll help you get that baby snatching bastard. He must have put you through some horrible things the way you want him dead," he added with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"There were some horrible things in the Labyrinth, the cleaners, those pervy helping hands, and the bog of eternal stench, but not all of it was horrible. Some of it was actually enjoyable, but then that's part of the trap I guess. Those were the parts meant to distract me and keep me from reaching the castle in time."

Sarah had been lost in her thoughts of Jareth and the Labyrinth and completely missed the varied expressions that passed over Dean's face. "Hold it, hold it, hold it…. Pervy helping hands?"

Sarah couldn't help it but laugh, the sound warm and chiming in the silence of the room. "Don't ask."

"Oh no! You can't say something like that then keep the details to yourself. Spill!" he demanded, with a grin.

Flushing, Sarah bit her lip. "Well, I fell down a trap and was stopped by these hands sticking out of the walls of the hold. And let's just say, some of them got  _very_ friendly. They did stop me from falling to my death, although I'm sure a couple of them weren't really trying to help as much as they were just copping a feel," she laughed.

Smiling Dean squeezed her hand, which she surprisingly hadn't pulled out of his grasp. "That's the Sarah I want to see more of."

"What?" His words caught her off guard and she pulled her hand away from him.

"Smiling," Dean stated. "I'd like to see you happy and smiling more. You're beautiful when you smile and I hate seeing pretty girls feeling blue."

"Oh," Sarah nodded and avoided looking at him. Standing, she let go of her brother and excused herself before dashing to the restroom, leaving a very confused Dean and Toby.

Sighing, Dean shook his head and smiled at Toby. "Women…I tell you, they are confusing buddy."

Staying silent, Toby nodded.

Sam sighed and let another dusty book fall shut with a dull thud, the sound overly loud in the quiet of the library. Frowning he surveyed the stacks of books around him, covering the top of the large library table he had commandeered in a back corner of the city records section. He'd used every search technique he could think of, but was still having very little luck with his research.

The town itself was rather boring – boring except for the fact that since the town was established in 1789, every 27 to 30 years a spate of unexplained disappearances and murders occurred – usually targeting children and young adults. Even more strange than that, no one seemed to link the occurrences. Sure they reported them, but for whatever reason, no one seemed to notice the pattern. 'Or maybe they are afraid to voice it,' he mused, flipping open another book, then sighing and putting it into another pile of useless tomes.

Other than the recurring runs of murder and disappearances, nothing much happened in the town. There wasn't even one recorded death by anything other than natural causes or logging accidents in all that time. All things considered, the town was a small, peaceful place to raise a family – at least until the curse reared its head every 27 years or so.

As far as the murders, he hadn't found anything more than what the Sherriff had given him. He hoped the coroner found something on the remains that might help them.

With no other leads, Sam tried to find any information he could on deadlights, but he wasn't having much luck there either. The only reference he found was in an obscure text that mentioned the Archangels "defending the children of Earth from Lights of the Dead" It was the closest thing Sam found after hours of research. Deciding to take a chance, he called their favorite angel to see if he knew anything.

"Hello." Castiel's deep voice answered the phone.

"Hey Cas, its Sam."

"Sam, is everything alright?"

"Well, Dean and I could use your help. We're working a case in Maine and I can't find any information on this thing," Sam explained, his voice dropping under the angry glare of the passing librarian.

"You're hunting something you know nothing about?" Castiel muttered.

"Well we know it seems to wake up and kills a bunch of kids in this town, every 27 years or so. And it doesn't stop at just killing them, it rips them apart, Cas. We're not even sure what it is called. The only kid to survive it this time isn't talking…well…he did scream one thing while some demon clown with razors for teeth tried to climb through a TV screen."

Clearing his throat, Castiel cut in, "Clown? Are you sure you weren't just having a nightmare? Maybe Morpheus is screwing with you again?"

"It is the stuff of nightmares sure, but we all saw it. And the kid started screaming 'Deadlights'…"

"Did you say Deadlights?" Castiel's voice raised in an almost panicked tone, as he cut off Sam's explanation.

"Yea, do you know anything about it?''

"You said a boy survived?" Castiel demanded, ignoring Sam's question.

"You're worrying me, Cas. What is this thing?"

"But there is a survivor?" Castiel continued.

"Yeah…That's right, Toby. He's pretty messed up though. Hasn't said anything since the night his friend was killed, until today that is. He was screaming Deadlights. Do you know what they are?"

"An evil from another realm." Castiel's voice got an octave deeper as he whispered, his words carrying an urgency that chilled Sam's blood. He knew that sound, and it was not good. "That boy is in grave danger. It won't stop until he's dead. Where are you? I'll head to you now."

"We're in Derry Maine. Cas do you know how to stop this thing?"

"Perhaps, but we'll need the King of Dreams to pull it off. You'll need to find a way to call him. I could do it, but we are… we aren't on the best of terms. It's best if you call him, but be careful. He's on par with the Archangels and he's very tricky. I'll be there soon. Until then stay with the boy. Do not let him out of your sight." Castiel hung up before Sam could reply.

Sam sighed and clicked the search bar on his screen. "Guess I need to do more research." He said to himself as he typed in "King of Dreams".

After Sarah left the room, Dean had tried once more to talk to Toby. The boy seemed to be a lot more responsive than he was when they first arrived. Dean was glad he was helping in that area at least. He just wished Toby could tell him what happened.

"So bud, what do you say we have a little fun? Your sister tells me you're quite the artist." Dean grabbed the crayons and some paper, putting them on the coffee table in front of Toby. "Now I'm not a professional, but I can draw a mean stick figure. So I challenge you to a little contest. We'll let Sarah judge and she gets to give the winner a prize." He leaned closer to the boy with a conspiratorial grin. "Personally I'm hoping for a kiss. There's nothing better than a kiss from a pretty girl, and your sister is a very pretty girl."

Toby wrinkled up his nose as he looked at Dean in disgust – a look Dean enjoyed because it was the first time Toby really seemed to react to anything except the demon clown on the TV.

After a moment Toby picked up a crayon from the table and looked at it. He stared at it for a long time before he began the color the paper red. There were no shapes or designs, just red. He colored from one side to the other and just kept coloring. Dean sighed and watched him for a moment before grabbing a couple crayons. It wasn't much but at least he got the boy to color. It was going to take time and patience, but he was certain that Toby would recover from all this. Dean just hoped they found a lead before another child was killed.

Sarah stood at the door, her hand over her mouth as she watched them. Dean really was amazing. He managed to make more progress with her little brother in a couple of hours than anyone had in weeks. She smiled seeing Toby color. She couldn't see what he was making, but it was good to see him with art supplies again. After a few moments, Sarah walked over and looked at their art. Toby's page was almost a solid red page now, while Dean had a whole page of various stick figures, all labeled with names.

"Wow, look at you two." She smiled as she sat between them.

"I challenged Toby here to a little contest." Dean grinned. "I told him I could beat him at an art contest. So here's my entry." Dean handed the paper to Sarah and they both looked at Toby who was still coloring. "I guess he's still working on his."

Sarah looked at the paper Dean handed her. There were stick figures of all colors and sizes. She read the names to herself wondering who they all were; Mary, John, Ash, Ellen, Jo, Pamela, Rufus, Bobby, Henry, Kevin, Charlie.

"Who are all these people?"

"People I've lost," Dean replied.

Sarah looked up from the paper into his candy apple green eyes. "So many people. Were they all…" Dean nodded before she finished her sentence. "That's horrible." Before she thought better of it, Sarah leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?"

"Didn't you say that you hoped your prize would be a kiss?" She grinned, hoping to at least lighten the mood a little.

Dean smiled and shook his head. "Guess I won the contest, Toby." Looking over he found the boy still coloring the page, completely ignoring everything else. Looking back to Sarah, Dean started to say something but the ringing of his phone stopped him. Pulling it from his pocket, he hit the speaker button.

"Hey Sammy, tell me you've got something."

"Not much. I found a reference to the Archangels defending the children of Earth from the Lights of the Dead," Sam told them.

"Archangels? We should call…"

"I already called him," Sam interrupted. "He's on his way and said we'll need the help from the King of Dreams." Before Dean could do any more than open his mouth, Sam continued. "Yeah… I don't him either, but I found a summoning ritual. I'll text you the list of supplies you can pick up at the store or at Sarah's. I'm off to see if I can find the not so common items on the list. Pretty sure this town doesn't have an occult shop, so it may be a few hours. I know there is one in Portland."

"King of Dreams?" Sarah questioned. She had a bad feeling about this. "Who is he?"

"According to the little bit of lore I found, he's a powerful King from another realm that, unlike most of his kind, actually helps humans. It's very vague on  _how_  he helps, but if Cas says we need him…"

"I hear ya. We must need him," Dean said. "So this King of Dreams is one of the good guys?"

"Maybe." Sam wasn't sure of anything. "Cas said we need him, but to be careful. He's apparently on par with an Archangel and very sneaky."

"Great another freaking, trickster," Dean groaned.

"Yeah, anyway I got to run. Gather what you can in town and I'll be back with the rest of the supplies tonight. Oh and Dean, Cas said that Toby is in danger. Don't let him out of your sight. Apparently, this thing won't stop until it kills him."

Hours later, Toby was sound asleep on the couch and Sarah and Dean were in the kitchen waiting for Sam, the items needed for the ritual sitting on the table.

"Are you sure about this?" Sarah asked. She shivered thinking about it. "I don't like the idea of summoning some magical King. I've had my fill of Kings…especially magical, trickster ones."

"Don't worry. We'll use every precaution we can and make sure it's completely safe for you and Toby," Dean assured her. "Now Sam will be here soon, we've got everything right?"

Sarah nodded, reading over the list and checked the items on the table. "Dandelions, mallow, poplar buds, Rowan, St John's wort, tobacco, matches, a metal bowl, a silver knife, and candles. Will this really work? Most of this is just weeds from the backyard?"

"You'll be surprised how many things these weeds are used for," Dean told her as he paced the room.

"Will the tobacco from cigarettes and a bottle of St John's wort supplements pills really work?"

Dean shrugged, giving her a sheepish grin. "Sometimes you have to make do with what you can get. Once we used salt scraped from pretzels."

The cheerful chimes of the doorbell sounded through the house. Hopping up, Dean headed to the front door and threw it open to see Sam on the porch, his arms full of bags.

"About time Sammy."

"You try navigating Portland traffic during rush hour," Sam grumbled, passing some of the heavier bags to Dean as he pushed his way into the house and nudged the door shut with his hip. "Did you get the rest of the stuff?"

"Yeah, what about you?" Dean questioned.

"The feathers were a bit tricky, but I got them. I had to pay a zookeeper, but I got them. Luckily we still had some phoenix ash in the trunk."

The brothers bustled into the kitchen, sitting the bags on the counters, then pulling items from them to join the pile on the kitchen table. Sarah blinked as she listened to them talk.

"Phoenix ash?" Sarah wasn't sure she wanted to know how they got that.

"Long story," Sam and Dean replied in unison.

Shaking her head, Sarah chuckled, "Seems like everything is a long story with you two."

Sam surveyed the items on the table and checked the ritual he had found. "When you've been through as much as we have, yeah…everything is a long story." A frown pulled at his lips, as he shook his head. "I really hope this works. Cas said he could get the Dream King, but thought it would be better if we summoned him."

Jumping as Dean slapped him on the back, Sam took the mortar his brother thrust into his hands. "No sense worrying about it now. Better get to grinding."

The three of them sat at the table, carefully grinding the various ingredients and mixing them together, all the while the knot in Sarah's stomach grew larger. They worked in silence until the sun had fully set, covering the town in velvet night.

"Alright pour everything into the bowl," Sam instructed

Dean and Sarah carefully added their herbs to the bowl, with Sam emptying the phoenix ash out of the bullet it had been put in, letting it scatter on top of the herbs. Shaking the bowl gently to mix it, he pursed his lips, unimpressed with the look of the mixture – no matter how many times they summoned beings, there was always a degree of worry that things would go horribly wrong. So far they'd been lucky, but deep down he knew that sooner or later their luck would run out.

"That should do it," he finally said, sitting the bowl aside.

"Sarah why don't you go check on Toby," Dean suggested when he glanced over and saw her hugging her knee to her chest and rocking nervously in her seat.

Nodding she hurried to the other room without a word.

"Is she ok?" Sam asked once she had left.

Dean shrugged, his expression pensive as the brothers moved the kitchen table into the hall, leaving them more room for the ritual.

"She's worried about summoning this guy. Whatever happened to her in that Labyrinth must have been horrible. She told me a little, but it's clear it was traumatic for her."

"Yeah, well not everyone is prepared for this stuff. Let's just hope this King is willing to help." Sam said, glancing at his watch then out the window. The moon was just beginning to rise in the sky – it was time.

Leaning down he drew an almost horned symbol on the floor with the infinity symbol in it, while Dean lit five blue candles and set them around the salt circle in the middle of the kitchen

"What's that?" Dean asked, not recognizing the symbol.

"The seal of the King," Sam muttered, double-checking his notes to make sure it was drawn precisely. "Apparently, this ritual is used to call over a 100 beings, the difference is the symbol and the type of feather needed for the summoning."

"Great…" Dean groaned and ran his hand through his hair until it stood wildly across his forehead. "I really hope we are calling the right King."

"Me too," Sam admitted, shaking his head.

Stepping back, he placed the bowl with the herbs and ash on top of the seal, then moved out of the circle, as Dean began to lay down another circle outside the first, slowly moving counter-clockwise to spread the mixture of salt, holy oil and ground crystals. Murmuring quietly, Sam laid down the stone seals to mark the quarters.

"Not taking any chances with this guy, I see," Dean grumbled, stepping back. "Do you really think three layers of binding are necessary?"

Sam eyed his brother with a frown, "You didn't hear Cas. The idea of summoning this King made him nervous. So no… we're not taking any chances."

When Sarah returned, they had the room set up to begin, and the moon was creeping higher in the sky.

"How is he?" Sam asked when he saw her return.

"He was having a nightmare again. I got him to quiet down and go back to sleep," she said hugging herself, her hands rubbing up and down her arms as another chill ran through her. "Please tell me this will be over soon."

"We're ready to summon the King," Sam told her. "So, yeah…for better or worse, this part will be over soon."

She nodded and stood behind them. "Let's get this over with."

Sam picked up the paper he had the incantation written on and started to read it as he used the sliver blade to slice his hand and let the blood drip into the bowl, not hearing the gasp from Sarah or seeing the way she flinched at the sight of his blood.

"Tha mi a 'gairm air Rìgh nan Dreams, esan a tha a' toirt leis an toil leis. Bidh mi a 'gairm agus ga cheangal ri mo thoil."

Sam held the barn owl feather out to his brother, who lit it on fire with a match, and then Sam tossed it in the bowl while Dean tossed in the match. There was a loud pop and the room filled with purple-grey smoke, which oddly seemed to sparkle.

When the cloud cleared a tall man stood in the middle of the circle, an ethereal wind swirling around the kitchen making the flames of the blue candles dance and flicker. His clothes were dark, a fine sheen of black glitter settling over his form giving him a dangerous air. Wild wisps of blonde hair could be seen over the high collar of the sleek black leather cloak he wore. The being held his hands out; the leather of his gloves creaking as he slowly flexed his fingers. Raising his head he looked around the room through narrowed blue eyes, the steep arch of his eyebrows adding to the feral look of him.

"Well, that was most unexpected," he murmured, his lips quirking into a malicious smile.

The low accented voice struck a chord in Sarah, eliciting a panicked gasp. "No, it can't be…"

Turning toward her voice, the King's grin broadened.

"Well…well…Hello, again Sarah." He looked at the bowl sitting at his feet, low laughter rumbling up from his chest. "Hmmm, herbs? A barn owl feather, and is that… yes, it is. Where ever did you get Phoenix ash..Hmmm?" He looked up at Sarah, who was standing behind the sandy-haired youth, the young man holding a silver dagger in his hand, as he attempted to shield Sarah. "Really I'm flattered that you went to such lengths to call for me, but Sarah, Precious…" He paused and took a moment to admire how she had grown. "All you had to do was wish for me."


End file.
